Memories from Dust
by Green-Eyed-Goddess
Summary: One girl who was supposed to be Spike’s dinner finds herself in the midst of the gang of four; a story from the POV of Spike’s childe. (Original character) COMPLETE
1. Demons in Town

Disclaimer: Nope, it's still not mine. And I couldn't find the rights anywhere on E-bay. :(  
  
Rating: R  
  
Timeline: Set back in the good old days with the gang of four, baby! Angelus is soulless, and therefore Spike is yet to kill his first slayer.  
  
Summary: One girl who was supposed to be Spike's dinner finds herself in the midst of the gang of four; a story from the POV of Spike's childe. (Original character)  
  
Feedback: Please review!  
  
Archive: If you want it, you can have it—just tell me where it's going.  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
~~Part One: Life~~  
  
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It was dark inside the club, the smoke from so many cigarettes making it even harder to see.  
  
I had full, honey-brown hair that fell down to just past my shoulders, a few strands hanging down in front of my face, casting shadows over my deep brown eyes, which were lined with smoky eyeliner and dark mascara.  
  
I stood in the shadows, watching the crowd of men drink and smoke, talk and, some slowly, some quickly spend money. There were few women in the club, and all of them were like me. Seeking the money we would get by offering our bodies; our 'services.'  
  
I was wearing a long blue dress, with a low neck and a lace-up back. From my waist up the dress was skintight; from the waist down it became looser and slightly transparent. (You couldn't see much more than the shadows of my legs.) Still, it was enough; the eyes of more then one 'gentleman' followed me. One of them in particular caught my eye.  
  
I couldn't say why I found him appealing: he was of average height, with light brown hair. His skin looked an unhealthy shade of white, but I assumed it only seemed so because of the completely black ensemble he was wearing. I caught him watching me once, looked away, and when I glanced back he had disappeared, hidden in the shadows or the crowd—was there really a difference between the two?  
  
I hadn't always been like this, waiting in darkened rooms for men to come and 'buy love' from me. Love they called it, though I loved none of them and I doubt they cared for me.  
  
If you had told me at 16 that when I was 22 I would be an experienced whore, I would have slapped you until your face was red and ordered you punished. And punished you would be, for who would argue with one of the wealthiest nobles in all England?  
  
It didn't matter now though, for I was no longer wealthy, and certainly not noble.  
  
"Now, what's a pretty girl like you doin' in a place like this?" A deep voice behind me asked.  
  
I spun around quickly, and found myself facing him; the same man I had been watching before.  
  
"I think you know very well what I'm doing here." I replied, annoyed that he had startled me so.  
  
"'Ey there pet, no need t' get shirty." Did I mention the color of his eyes? A pale blue, so clear I felt as though I could see right through them. "Why don' we go for a walk?" He offered me his arm.  
  
"It'll cost you."  
  
He laughed, a smile breaking across his pale face and stretching towards the sharp cheekbones. "And how much would it cost me to spend a mere hour in your sweet presence?"  
  
I found myself blushing as I mumbled the reply, pocketing the money while we strode out the doorway hand in hand. The cold night air hit me with a piercing freshness welcomed after too many hours in that smoke filled club.  
  
"What's your name, pet?" He asked me, pulling me closer as we got farther from the club.  
  
"Aimee." I answered truthfully. (At times I spun tales and created names to my liking. Now was not such a time.)  
  
"A pretty name for a prettier girl."  
  
There I was, blushing again. Other men had sweet-talked to me before, but it hardly affected me.  
  
"And will you give me yours?"  
  
"Spike." He said, and that was it. Just Spike.  
  
He led me into an alleyway, and against my better judgment I followed. Something about him sent shivers of excitement through me, and the thought of what lay ahead did not seem quite as dreadful.  
  
He leaned down to kiss me, and gently our lips caught. I was burning with lust and trying to remember if I had drank any wine this night. I had never felt this way before, never wanted something out of my partner: my whole body screamed to join with his, but for now I savored the kiss.  
  
I was busy savoring when another voice rang out behind me.  
  
"William." He said, in an accent that sounded as though he had come strange from the green hills of Ireland. "I've been looking all over for you."  
  
Spike broke away from the kiss, looking at the man behind me in disgust.  
  
"It's still hours 'till sunlight, peaches." He drawled. "And since when do you care if I burn?"  
  
"I don't care." This man was taller then Spike, with dark hair and darker eyes; he looked like the men you were warned to stay away from. "It's Drusilla. There's a growing mob claiming she's the devil, and they're burning the building we've been staying in at sunrise. She insisted that I warn her 'little boy'."  
  
"Who is he?" I asked Spike, the first thing I'd said since the dark one arrived.  
  
"'S just Angelus."  
  
"Angelus?"  
  
"My bloody grandsire."  
  
"Shut her up." Angelus commanded, and Spike obediently moved his hand over my mouth.  
  
"We could probably beat them."  
  
"It's too risky."  
  
"Don't you ever get tired of fighting battles you know you're going to win?"  
  
"No." Angelus answered. "Now come on, I'll make sure you regret it if someone dusts because of you."  
  
"I'll catch up with you lot, I'm busy at the moment."  
  
"William—"  
  
"My name's Spike!"  
  
"You're coming, now." He ordered, obviously annoyed with the other man.  
  
"I'm busy, mate."  
  
"I. Don't. Care. We have to find another place to stay before sunrise, and no one is going to be welcoming strangers into their house tonight. Dru will have a fit if they get you, so we're going. Now."  
  
I bit down on the hand that was covering my mouth.  
  
"Ey!" He exclaimed, surprised, then turned to Angelus. "I like this one."  
  
Angelus rolled his eyes, and before I could react he had grabbed me around the waist, hoisted me on to his shoulder and began to run further out of town.  
  
"Ey, that one's mine! Put 'er down you soddin' poofter!" Spike cried running after us.  
  
The dark one, or Angelus as he was called, stopped when we were a few minutes running from the alley. He still had me hoisted rather indecently over his shoulder; no amount of struggling and kicking on my part could free me.  
  
It was only a few seconds before Spike (or was his name William? I did not know or care by this time) had caught up with us.  
  
"Give her back!"  
  
"Will you come with me, then?"  
  
Spike glared at him but nodded. In one fluid motion, Angelus pulled me off his shoulder and tossed me towards the smaller man.  
  
I shrieked, and did not stop screaming even after I had been safely caught.  
  
"Quiet." Spike instructed me, placing my now unshod feet on the ground and his hand over my mouth.  
  
"And don't bite me again," he said, predicting my next actions. "Because if you do I'll bite you back."  
  
"I'll bite harder." I said, looking at his teeth skeptically.  
  
"I doubt it." He said with laughing eyes, and then he changed.  
  
It was as if his entire face shifted: his skin became rougher and ridges appeared, mainly around his eyes and forehead. His eyes had gone from pale blue to a golden yellow, but it was the teeth that caught my attention. His canine teeth were long and white, and very, very sharp—like the teeth of the mythical 'vampires' I had read stories about.  
  
I screamed through the hand clamped over my mouth.  
  
His face shifted back to normal, a look of annoyance playing across it. "Quiet!" He hissed.  
  
Immediately my mouth closed and my screaming ceased.  
  
Angelus was watching this all with an amused expression on his face. "What is it about this one that makes you so keen on keeping her?" He asked.  
  
Spike shrugged. "I jus' like her is all." (I still believe he also just wanted to annoy Angelus.)  
  
"Do I 'ave t' carry you, or can you walk?" Spike asked me as Angelus started onward.  
  
"I have legs."  
  
"Good then." He grasped my arm tightly, pulling me along with him. As we walked down the street the two men blended into the shadows, they wouldn't have been seen unless someone was looking for them.  
  
Soon I was pulled into another alley, this one as dark as the previous. Two women were waiting there; both had pale skin, but one's hair was a creamy blond and the others' was dark black.  
  
"What took you so long?" The blond woman asked sharply.  
  
"My William is back!" The dark haired woman exclaimed in delight, rushing towards Spike. "Daddy didn't want to get you, put I told him I couldn't bear it if they took my little boy away from me."  
  
"'S all right, Drusilla baby." He comforted her, pulling her into a kiss. "I'm here now."  
  
"We have to find somewhere else to stay." Angelus was telling the blond woman. "And soon. It's not long until sunrise. There are some warehouses on the edge of town, it shouldn't take us too long to get there, if we hurry."  
  
"Can't we stay somewhere nice?" The blond woman protested. "For the past week we've been in a rundown building!"  
  
"But no one will welcome strangers into their house, not tonight."  
  
"What have you brought?!" The dark haired woman, Drusilla, asked Spike with excitement when she spotted me.  
  
When Spike had released his hold on me I had shrunk to the edge of the group: too afraid to run but hoping they would forget about me.  
  
"You have found yourself a toy, you have." Drusilla said, voice childlike. "She looks delicious—may I have a taste?"  
  
"Of course, princess." Spike replied.  
  
Drusilla's face shifted like Spike's had done earlier, and she grabbed by hand, placing one of my fingers in her mouth daintily as though it were a pastry treat.  
  
A sharp fang bit into my finger, and I cried out. (In vain, as my scream was quickly stifled by the hand of Spike's that always seemed to find itself over my mouth.)  
  
My cry had alerted the other two, who were now watching as Drusilla sucked the blood from my cut, dropping my finger from her mouth and smiling with satisfaction. "She tastes very sweet." Drusilla told Spike as I hastily put my hands behind my back.  
  
"What is she doing here?" The blond woman, Darla, asked.  
  
"Some play-thing of William's." Angelus answered.  
  
"My name's Spike." Spike muttered, although no one paid him any attention.  
  
"Would some one kill it?" Darla demanded, eyeing me with disgust. "She's going to give us away."  
  
"Hold on. The people here aren't goin' to invite anyone they don't know into their houses." Angelus said, a calculating expression on his face. "Do the people in this town know you?" He asked me.  
  
"M-most." I told him. (Many of the upper class knew me because I used to be some one with whom they would associate. The rest knew me because they were customers at the club I worked in.)  
  
"Good then." Angelus informed me. "We've got a job for you."  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
I stared at the large oak door in front of me and gulped nervously. I had strict, simple, orders. All I had to do was convince whoever opened the door to invite me in, no matter how I did it. They had to invite me verbally, something such as 'come in' or 'I invite you inside.'  
  
I had thought of telling whoever opened the door my story and hoping they would help me, but it turns out all four of them could change their faces like Spike and Drusilla. Surprisingly, four pairs of golden eyes and sharp teeth are very convincing.  
  
I couldn't see any of the four now; they had managed to hide themselves very effectively in the shadows of the large manor. But I knew they were very, very close by. I took a deep breath, stepped forward and knocked loudly on the door.  
  
Minutes passed and nothing happened. I was about to knock again when finally the door swung opened.  
  
The unfortunate butler who opened it was someone I knew—in fact he had been one of my 'customers' not a month ago. He looked as though he had just pulled himself out of bed to answer the calling doorbell, his hair slightly out of order instead of in its usual slicked back state.  
  
He was a large man, taller than either of the two concealed in the shadows somewhere behind me. He was also muscular, the muscles easily seen as he was only wearing a robe and slippers opposed too his usual suit and tie. For a moment, I wondered if he could overpower the other four, but I quickly discarded that thought. His teeth weren't sharp enough.  
  
"Sir." I said desperately. "Please, may I take shelter in your house, only for the night?"  
  
He looked at me suspiciously. "I cannot simply invite strangers into my masters' house. It is said that demons and monsters abound tonight."  
  
"But I'm no monster, Edmund. You know who I am; we got to know each other quite well not long ago!"  
  
"True, true. But what would my master say if I simply let a stranger into his household?"  
  
I was getting desperate now, searching for any way to persuade Edmund to invite me in. Who knew what the demons behind me would do if he continued to refuse?  
  
"I'll be very quiet, and leave early in the morning, your employer will never know I was here. I too am afraid of the demons said to be out tonight, what could I do against them?" I pleaded. "Please, Edmund, I do not wish to fall prey to such monsters."  
  
"I'm sorry." He said, and began to close the door.  
  
"Wait!" I cried out, grabbing the money Spike had given me earlier from my pocket. "I have money. Could you be persuaded to let me in for a small fee?"  
  
The door opened a little wider; the butler was looking interested. "But if you are found, I could get thrown out . . ."  
  
"No one will know I was here, I promise." He didn't look quite convinced; in any second the door was going to start closing again. "And if I spend the night," I said, dragging a hand down my chest and fingering the low neckline of my dress suggestively. "I'm sure could get to know each other better."  
  
Now I had him. "Alright then," he said, taking the money from my hand and pulling me inside. "Come in."  
  
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AN: So, what did you think? Please Review! 


	2. Snap, Crack

Disclaimer: Still not mine.  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Two: Snap, Crack  
  
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'Twas only a matter of seconds before the butler Edmund found himself immobilized by Spike and Angelus, Darla's hands placed firmly around his head. He stared at me, eyes wide with horror.  
  
"You said you weren't a monster." He accused, and then Darla wrenched his neck, and with a simple crack he was dead. The three released their grasps upon him and his dead body fell to the floor with a thud.  
  
"I'm not a monster." I whispered, but the dead don't hear much.  
  
Drusilla clapped her hands gleefully. "Crack, snap, crack, snap!" She said in a singsong voice.  
  
"William, dispose of the body." Darla said as Angelus shut the heavy front door. "I'll take the first floor, William will take the second, and Dru and Angelus will check the third."  
  
"Crack, snap, crack, snap!" Drusilla continued singing.  
  
I couldn't take my eyes off the dead figure lying at my feet. I wasn't a monster. The four around me surely were, but I was not.  
  
"Why do you look so shocked, little lamb?" Drusilla asked me. "All good boys must someday die."  
  
I'm not a monster.  
  
She ran her cold fingers through my hair and began to sing again.  
  
"The little lamb's gone from the pasture, where oh where has it gone? 'Twas stolen by the hungry wolves, with teeth as sharp as knives."  
  
I'm not a monster.  
  
"Are we wolves then, pet?" Spike asked her.  
  
"Yes. We rip and tear and crack and snap, and scatter blood to all the winds. East, south, north west, scattering, scattering, scat."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Go on, pet, Angelus wants you to help him."  
  
"Scattering, scattering, scat." She sang, skipping her 'daddy'.  
  
"I'm not a monster." I whispered, frozen in front of the dead man as the tears welled up in my eyes. "I'm not a monster."  
  
"Aimee." Spike said, placing a hand on my shoulder.  
  
I spun around, directing a blow at his face. He easily caught my arm and held it away from himself. (I did land a good kick on his leg, but he showed no reaction to that.)  
  
"I'm not a monster!" I practically yelled.  
  
"Shhhh, don't worry love, course you're not." He comforted me, and I and I found myself held by his arms. "'S alright, pet." I was sobbing into the arms of the demon who had gotten me into this whole mess, and I didn't care.  
  
* * * * * * *  
  
Spike led me up to the second floor, as it was his job to get rid of anyone there and he didn't seem to know what to do with me. I followed silently behind him, half expecting something to jump out of the shadows and attack me, and only half-caring.  
  
Many of the first rooms, though elaborately furnished, were empty; they seemed to be guestrooms. I could only just make out the outlines of these rooms as it was pitch dark save for the moon's small gleam of silver light. In the hallways it was even worse: I couldn't see a thing and would have caused quite a racket had Spike not led me carefully down the carpeted floors.  
  
Finally we entered a room that held a sleeping couple. They seemed to be older, likely the two to whom this estate belonged. I held my breath as Spike shut the door quietly behind us, letting go of my hand as I shrank into the corner to watch, wondering what would happen.  
  
It wasn't much of a spectacle.  
  
Spike leaned over the bed quietly, placing two hands firmly around the old woman's neck. There was a sharp cracking sound as he yanked her head sideways. (Snap, crack, snap, crack, Drusilla's voice sprang to mind.) If it weren't for the unnatural angle of her neck, I would have thought she was still sleeping.  
  
Spike moved to the other side of the bed and did the same to her husband. It all happened so quickly, so quietly.  
  
Nothing spectacular, yet I was shaking with rage and a little bit of fear.  
  
"W-what . . ." I stammered. "Y-you, you killed them."  
  
He didn't answer.  
  
"You killed them!"  
  
"We can't have them getting out and alerting the townspeople that we're here, now can we?"  
  
"But you can't just kill them!" I was shouting now, all the fear had gone and now I was just angry, furiously so. "You don't just walk into someone's house in the middle of the night, and then kill them for your safety!"  
  
"Seems to me as though I just did." He said coldly.  
  
My eyes narrowed and within moments I had sprang across the room and attempted to land a kick where it counts most. But Spike's reflexes were faster than mine, and he grabbed my foot so that I spun far off balance and landed in an undignified heap on the floor.  
  
(I would like to point out, for my sake, that it is very hard to fight anyone while wearing a full-length dress.)  
  
He began walking towards the door leading to the adjacent room, but I would have none of that. With a cry of rage I picked my self off the floor and ran at him, grabbing his arm and digging my nails into it, attempting to drag him to the floor or at least cause him minor discomfort.  
  
"Shut up girl!" He said, slapping me across the face so hard that I found myself once again on the floor. "You're going to wake up the rest!"  
  
"That would be a shame." I said sarcastically. "Then it might be hard for you to kill them."  
  
I ran past him, landing another hard kick on his leg (this one at least caused him to wince) on my way through the door, tumbling into the next room as his blow landed where I had been only seconds before.  
  
But Spike had been correct about one thing, and I had awakened the occupant of this room.  
  
"Who's there?" Asked the young man, sitting up tensely in bed. He struck a match, the flame magnifying as he lit an oil candle. The candle set and eerie glow around the room, which already seemed strange enough.  
  
I was crouched on a deep red carpet, my fingers sinking into the softness of it. The walls were painted stark white; it would have been blinding in the full force of sunlight.  
  
The man looked to be somewhere in his early twenties. Sitting up in the large bed with the wine red comforter and satin sheets of a lighter shade of red, he looked Spike over cautiously.  
  
"Who are you?" The man asked, pushing his untidy dark brown hair out of his eyes.  
  
"Spike."  
  
"What are you doing in my house?" The man was getting out of bed, never dropping his gaze on Spike. As his feet hit the floor, I noticed he was wearing red silk pajamas the same color as the sheets.  
  
"Jus' stopped in for a bit. Needed a place t' go, this seemed nice enough." Spike answered casually, as though it was normal to show up at other people's houses in the middle of the night.  
  
"What did you do to my aunt and uncle?" He asked, obviously referring to the older couple lying dead in the adjacent room.  
  
"Killed 'em." Spike said, still casual. "Couldn't risk them letting out the word that we're here."  
  
"We?" He asked, the first sign of fear in his voice. He glanced around the room, spotting me for the first time. The fear fell from his face, replaced with the smug look he had been wearing before. "And who's this?" The man asked, indicating to me. "Your wife, or some whore you picked off the street?"  
  
Spike remained silent, though I thought I could detect a soft growl coming from his chest.  
  
"Because it does get a bit tiresome around here at times." The man continued. "The girl's pretty enough, if you feel like sharing—"  
  
He never got to finish this sentence as Spike roared and launched himself at the man, ripping his head of savagely so the silk-clad body fell to the floor with hardly a sound, the noise softened by the thickness of the carpet.  
  
"I don't like to share." Was all Spike said, tossing the head aside.  
  
The dead man was bleeding, and I would have considered the carpet's color blood red were it not for the thick, scarlet-brown liquid seeping into it that made it painfully obvious that the carpet was not that color at all. Even as we left the room blood continued leaking out of the man like wine from an overturned goblet, yet not a single drop marred the white, white walls.  
  
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	3. No Running

Disclaimer: Nothing Buffy related belongs to me, and I'm not making any money off this. (Or anything else, for that matter.)  
  
Feedback: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed: I love reading your comments, so please keep writing them!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Three: No Running  
  
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"What do you mean, you don't like to share?" I asked, following Spike as he checked the last few rooms on this floor for humans.  
  
The vampire shrugged, scanning yet another bedroom and finding it empty. "What's mine is mine and I don' like sharing it."  
  
He obviously didn't understand what I was trying to say. "But I'm not yours, to share or not."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
"Says me!"  
  
He laughed. "Luv, you're in a house with four vampires. We're very possessive creatures: I saw you first, so you're mine."  
  
"But—"  
  
"It could be worse, you could belong to Angelus."  
  
"I'm not a thing." I muttered, but had to admit he was right. Out of all the four vampires, Angelus frightened me the most.  
  
"I heard that." He told me, reaching the last room on the floor. Once again, it was empty. "This one seems nice enough." He said, commenting on the guest bedroom at the end of the hallway.  
  
I didn't say anything; it was too dark for me to see much until the numerous candles bolted to the walls of the room had been lit.  
  
It was a nice room, fairly large with a carpet that was thick and soft, dark green in color. There was a king-sized four-poster bed standing prominently in the center of the room, it's comforter a deep shade of green. The curtains drawn back around the bed were the same shade, though made of silk.  
  
There was a large wooden cabinet in one corner, and a black couch in another. Large windows decorated the eastern wall, with heavy black curtains that Spike drew, making sure the glass panes were completely covered.  
  
"Stay here." Spike said, and I soon heard the sound of him searching through a closet or something of the like. I was contemplating whether or not to try and make a break for it (run down the hallway until I found the stairs, down the stairs which would lead to the front door, out the door . . .) when he came back in, holding a sizeable piece of rope.  
  
"I'm goin' downstairs and tell the others what we found." He said, grabbing my wrists, and before I had time to react, binding my hands together. "And you get to stay right here."  
  
"Do you really have to tie me up?" I asked as he pushed me to the floor and tied my already bound wrists to a bedpost.  
  
"Do you really think I'm going to leave you here and trust that you won't run away?" He tied my ankles together.  
  
"Yes." I said, smiling sweetly.  
  
He laughed, cupping my face with his hands and kissing me lightly on the lips.  
  
I snapped, trying to bight him, but once again he pulled away to quickly, leaving the room with a satisfied smirk.  
  
* * *  
  
Not to long after, Drusilla glided into my room, looking pleased.  
  
"I found you, Spike's toy with the pretty dress." She said, merrily.  
  
I didn't know what to say to that.  
  
"What's your name, dearie?" She asked, shutting the door behind her and bending down so that she was eye level with me.  
  
"Aimee."  
  
"Now Aimee," Drusilla said as she untied my hands. "Don't run away, for if you do my William will have a fit. He likes you, you know."  
  
It didn't seem as though she wanted me to reply, so I remained quiet as she dropped the rope that had bound my hands to the floor.  
  
"No running, no skipping, no jumping away." She sang, untying the string that laced up the back of my dress.  
  
She looked so harmless, but memories of her teeth and the sight of her sharp fingernails kept me from moving.  
  
"No flying or sneaking or sliding away." She carefully pulled my dark blue dress off of me.  
  
I was now wearing nothing but a black lace bra with matching underwear, a rather skimpy ensemble.  
  
"Wait." I said, as she began tying to hands to the bedpost again. "I need some clothes, something to wear."  
  
"Shhhh." Drusilla replied, placing a white finger in front of my lips. "We must be very quiet, or Miss Edith will hear us and have to be punished."  
  
I didn't know who Miss Edith was, but for fear that she was another vampire, I remained quiet.  
  
"Princess has a new dress." She sang, skipping out of the room and leaving me along once more. "A very pretty one."  
  
I found myself livid as she left; after all I had rather liked that dress. And it didn't help that she and Spike both seemed to have a tendency to tie ropes extremely tight: my wrists were starting to hurt.  
  
I listened as Drusilla, outside my closed door, began talking. This time, she actually seemed to be speaking to someone, that someone being Spike.  
  
"Do you like my new dress, William?"  
  
"It's very pretty." He answered. "Not that you need clothes t' be beautiful."  
  
She giggled. "Naughty, naughty you are."  
  
"I can be naughtier, and seeing as we're trapped in this house for the next few days . . ."  
  
"No, no, William. Daddy calls for me tonight." She giggled again. "Will you tie the back of my dress for me?"  
  
"'Course, love." He said, though he no longer sounded enthusiastic.  
  
I stopped listening as the pain in my wrists and ankles became more apparent. If Spike would just hurry up and get in here and untie me.  
  
Finally he did. At least he came in, and immediately began pacing back and forth across the room, ignoring me completely.  
  
"Spike?" I asked. "Could you untie me?" I got no response. "It's kind of getting painful . . ."  
  
He continued ignoring me.  
  
"William?" I asked, hoping his other name would get his attention.  
  
It did.  
  
"My name is Spike!" He shouted at me, across the room in a few strides and landing a harsh kick at my side.  
  
I would have been sent flying across the room were it not for the fact that my wrists were still tied to the bedpost. As it happened, I ended up lying stretched out on the floor, Spike straddling me.  
  
"William is dead." He said, voice dangerously soft. "Who am I?"  
  
"Spike." I answered obediently. I wanted to protest that it wasn't fair—no one else got kicked when they called him William, but lying on the floor in only my underwear didn't put me in a good position to protest anything.  
  
Spike seemed to notice this too. "That's a good girl." He said, dragging his fingers slowly up my bare stomach. "Now, what's my name?"  
  
"Spike." I breathed, forgetting for the moment that I hated him and everything to do with him.  
  
He moved his hands farther up my stomach, his fingers playing with the edge of my bra. My back arched off the floor, trying to bring him closer.  
  
"Someone's eager." He teased, a grin on his face.  
  
I captured his mouth in a kiss, and he kissed me back hungrily, this kiss not as soft as the first one but just as good.  
  
Then, abruptly he pulled away, getting to his feet. "Let's find you some clothes, shall we?"  
  
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AN: What did you think? Please review! 


	4. Getting to Know You

Disclaimer: Why do I feel like I should write something funny here? Does anyone even read these things? It's not mine.  
  
AN: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Four: Getting to Know You  
  
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Wearing a light brown, knee-length suede skirt and clean white shirt, I felt ten times better, if a bit sleepy.  
  
"Sun's up." Spike said suddenly, although there was no way I could tell with the heavy curtains drawn.  
  
He left, locking the door behind him, (he had found the key, so I no longer had to be tied up) and I climbed into the bed and under the green covers. Turned out that, surprise, surprise, it had green satin sheets, with matching green pillowcases.  
  
With my head buried in the pillows, I was almost asleep when Spike came back into the room and slid into the other side of the bed.  
  
I stiffened immediately. All the feelings of heat and lust I had felt lying on the floor with him over me were gone: now I could only see him as a killer, as someone with no concern for anyone of anything. The thought that I had wanted to go the whole way with a demon repulsed me, and this time, I told myself, this time I would resist him.  
  
After all, how hard could it be?  
  
But Spike didn't even glance at me. He has brought back with him a book of some sort, and had devoted all his attention to it.  
  
Convinced he wasn't going to do anything, I was about to stop watching him out of the corner of my eye and try to get some sleep when he tossed the book aside and turned to me, smirk across his face as his blue eyes glittered.  
  
"You still up for something?" He asked me, pulling himself over me.  
  
I assumed whatever he was reading must have been pretty steamy. "I don't know what you're talking about." I told him sharply.  
  
He laughed. "Playing stupid then, are you? Put it this way: I'm in the mood for a shag, how are you feelin'?"  
  
I glared at him, but couldn't help thinking that a nice 'shag' wouldn't be that bad. "Why do you bother to ask me, aren't you just going to force yourself on me anyway?"  
  
"But that wouldn't be half as fun."  
  
"Then I guess you won't be getting your fun."  
  
He laughed again. "C'mon now, I can tell you want me."  
  
"No." I said, wanting him more then anything as he held himself above me with those beautiful strong arms, surveyed me hungrily with his clear blue eyes. "I don't want you; I don't want anything to do with you."  
  
He brought his face right next to mine, whispering in my ear. "There must be something you want from me."  
  
"Nothing." Oh god, I could smell him now.  
  
"Your heart is pumping away, your blood's rushin', but I don' smell any fear."  
  
"I don't—" I started. But what did it matter? I was probably going to die soon anyway. "Oh, fuck it all."  
  
I pushed him onto his back, surprising him by pulling myself on top of him and grabbing for his lips with my own.  
  
"You know what?" He said, as he pulled his tongue out of his mouth to help me wrestle off my shirt. "I like you."  
  
I laughed as I kissed him, helping him with his shirt and feasting my eyes on his toned ivory chest. Curse the man who invented shirts. We fell into each other easily, keeping up a rhythm like we were meant for each other.  
  
He whispered sweet nothings into my ear as he rocked back and forth, I gasped at the pleasure screaming through my body: good sex I had known before, but this, this was perfect.  
  
* * * * *  
  
I lay tangled in the sheets, head against Spike's chest as he played with a strand of my honey-brown hair.  
  
He pulled an arm around my side, pulling me closer to him. I winced in pain, for the first time noticing the good-sized bruise on my side from where he had kicked me earlier.  
  
"Did I do that to you?" He asked, fingering the bluish black spot delicately.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He grimaced. "I just don't like to be called William."  
  
I laughed. "I kind of got that. So why do the others call you William?"  
  
"It was my name as a human."  
  
I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he began to explain. "I wasn't born a vampire. I used t' be human, but then Dru came along, sucked me dry and right before I died fed me some 'f her blood."  
  
"Were you different, as a human?" I asked, my hands tracing the lines on his stomach.  
  
"You wouldn't believe how different." He said with a small laugh. "I was weak, timid, and I wanted to be a poet."  
  
I suppressed a laugh. "I never would have guessed."  
  
"I was William then. They used to call me 'William the Bloody', because of my bloody awful poetry." His hands were tensed now, gripping the bed covers.  
  
"Where does 'Spike' come from?"  
  
"Drove railroad Spikes into their heads." He said with a smirk, hands releasing their grip.  
  
I decided not to think about that.  
  
"So how about you?" He asked. "How'd you get into your . . . business."  
  
"You mean why did I become a whore?"  
  
"I told you my story."  
  
"Well, my sister and I were the daughters of one of the richest noble's in the country—my parents never managed a son, but they seemed content enough with us."  
  
"And then what happened?"  
  
"My father was riding to another Lord's house, when his horse spooked. He was thrown from the saddle, and cracked his head open on a rock and died instantly. My mother had really loved my father, and when she heard the news she had a heart attack, and died only a week later."  
  
"Must've been hard for you, pet." He said, stroking my cheek.  
  
"Naturally, it was expected that the closest male relative would take over the family fortune. As they saw it, I was not just young, but I was a young girl . . . I wouldn't be able to handle economic affairs by myself." I continued. "The problem was, I had no known relatives, male or female. No one knew what to do, until he showed up."  
  
"He?"  
  
"Charles Abel. He came with papers—false papers—claiming that he was related, though distantly, to my mother. Well, the authorities were so glad to have finally found an acceptable heir, they didn't do much of a background check to make sure his claims were true. It was assumed that Charles would take care of me, and even if he didn't, it didn't really matter. I may have been pretty, but I wasn't important."  
  
"Not pretty." Spike insisted. "Beautiful."  
  
I smiled, in spite of the story I was telling. "Charles seemed to think so to. He told me he would provide for me only if I agreed to marry him."  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"I was foolish. I would only marry for love, and I told him that. And so I was sent out onto the streets. When you're a girl of only 16 with no real skills or teaching, you've only got one job option."  
  
"Do you regret it?" Spike asked, blue eyes staring into my brown ones and giving me the feeling he was trying to read my soul.  
  
"Sometimes I don't. Charles is still unmarried. I may be selling my body to strangers, but he will never, ever, have me."  
  
"And then sometimes I do regret it. My sister was only nine at the time, and I didn't know what had happened to her until last year, when I was told she had died of the measles. And I was so innocent, at 16. I was tossed into the big, bad world without knowing anything about it. The first man who took me was neither kind nor gentle, but he paid me enough for food and meager lodging. And that's where I've been for the past years."  
  
I stopped for a second, taking a deep breath. "It was all so different then what I was used to. For the first time in my life, I felt unsafe, I felt vulnerable."  
  
It was the first time I had told anyone my story (no one else had bothered to ask) and the tears were now leaking out of my eyes, even as I did my best to stop them.  
  
"Shhhh." Spike comforted me. "Don' worry, luv. You're safe here."  
  
"Spike, you're a vampire." I reminded him. "Plus, I just saw you kill three innocent people in under an hour. I'm hardly safe here."  
  
"You've got a point." He said, running a hand over my face gently. "But if it makes you feel any better I'm not goin' t' kill you just yet."  
  
I smiled weakly. "Maybe a little better."  
  
He grinned, running his finger along my lip. He pulled me into a long, slow kiss and I melted into his embrace, forgetting all my troubles.  
  
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Please Review! 


	5. Hunger

Disclaimer: Nope, it's still not mine.  
  
AN: Please review!! It makes me happy, which makes me write faster, and therefore it makes you happy too!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Five: Hunger  
  
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I woke up as Spike untangled himself from my arms, pulling himself gracefully out of bed.  
  
"Go back to sleep." He told me, running his hand over my face fondly. "I'll be back soon."  
  
I tried to fall back asleep, but found that my stomach was protesting loudly for food; I hadn't eaten anything since Spike kidnapped me. I got out of bed, dressing before washing my face and fixing my hair in the washroom connected to my room.  
  
When the door finally opened again, I felt more awake then I had in awhile.  
  
"I brought you somethin'." Spike called.  
  
"What?" I asked curiously, but he didn't need to tell me. He was holding a brown paper bag and the smells of a fresh baked loaf of bread were radiating strongly from it.  
  
Food. My stomach growled in response.  
  
Before he could say another word, I had bounded across the room and snatched the bag from his hands. I ripped open the bag and pulled out the loaf of bread, eagerly sinking my teeth into it. There was also cheese, and some meat, plus more than enough apples.  
  
"I thought you might be hungry."  
  
"Mmmmgrhm."  
  
Spike laughed. "Brought you some water, too."  
  
I took it from his, taking a long gulp. Noticing he had yet another paper bag, I made a grab for it.  
  
"That's for later." Spike said, holding it out of my reach. "You're going to get hungry again."  
  
He had a point, I mused, returning my attentions to the rest of my food.  
  
"That's better." I said, sitting on the floor and contently munching on an apple. Spike sat down next to me, watching me hungrily.  
  
"You know, I got the meat, cheese, and apples just fine, but when I was nicking the bread, the baker saw me. He started a huge commotion, chasing me down the street. I would've jus' killed 'im, but he was so loud that half the town came out to see who was makin' such a ruckus in this early in the mornin', and Angelus would 'ave my head if I killed someone in front of them. I finally lost him, but the thing is," Spike brushed my hair to one side, leaving part of my neck exposed, "I didn't get anythin' to eat."  
  
I knew what he wanted, but instead I offered him my apple. He playfully took a bite, but didn't stray from the topic as I had hoped.  
  
"Aimee, could I-"  
  
The thought of his teeth sinking into my neck . . . "No." I cut him off. I was terrified.  
  
"C'mon, just one, little bite."  
  
"No!" Besides, you said you weren't going to kill me, at least not for a while."  
  
"I'm not going to kill you. You might feel a bit tipsy afterwards, but you'll still be alive and kickin'."  
  
"No."  
  
"Come on now, love, just a little bite."  
  
"Fine." I consented, mainly because I knew that if he really wanted to kill me, I couldn't stop him. I bared my neck for him, eyes shut tightly. However, instead of lunging at me like I thought he would, he kissed me.  
  
I responded to it, almost automatically. (I could never seem to not respond to Spike's body.) As his tongue caressed my mouth and his hands massaged my back, I didn't even notice that I had pulled myself onto his lap and wrapped my legs around the vampires' waist.  
  
His kisses moved from my mouth to my neck, and then I felt his face change as his fangs pierced my skin. Torrents of pain shot through me, my mind reeling. But in only a matter of seconds I was no longer in pain, but enveloped in euphoria.  
  
I had never felt anything like it: I was drowning in ecstasy and holding on to every moment as Spike slowly sucked the blood from my throat.  
  
Far too soon, he pulled away. He licked the wound clean, and then, with face in his human guise, studied me carefully.  
  
"You alright, luv?"  
  
That was when the blood loss hit me. I felt dizzy, grabbing a hold of Spike to steady myself as the room rocked back and forth.  
  
"Here." Spike's voice sounded faint as he handed me another apple. "Eat this, it'll make you feel better."  
  
I obediently ate the apple, and by the time I was finished the room had stopped rocking and my senses had cleared up.  
  
"How are you feeling now?" He asked, standing up and helping me rise unsteadily to my feet.  
  
"Better." I assured him, leaning on him so I wouldn't fall over. "I thought it would hurt. And it did, but only for a little bit. And then it was just . . . amazing." My fingers studied the puncture holes in my neck. "Can we do it again?"  
  
"If I keep drainin' you at this rate, then you'll find yourself very, very dead." He laughed. "It'll happen again, don' you worry. Right now you need t' rest."  
  
I sighed, but let him lead me to the bed furnished in its green coverings. "You'll stay with me?"  
  
He nodded, taking off his shirt and shoes and lying down next to me. My first thought was to get rid of those pants of his, but then drowsiness overtook me and I fell asleep; my head buried in the pillows and one arm draped over his beautiful, pale chest.  
  
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	6. Tea Parties and Angelus

Disclaimer: Still not mine.  
  
Rating: R Warning: Rape  
  
AN: Sorry for the long wait; school's been hectic this week, and I've had no time for anything. Please review!  
  
Memories From Dust  
  
Chapter Six: Tea Parties and Angelus  
  
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Was it a day later? I had completely lost track of time. Spike had gone off to 'make something scream' and left me locked in the room. As obnoxious as it was, the room was spacious, and besides, it was far better than being tied to the bed.  
  
At loss of anything better to do, I stood in front of the mirror, my back to the door, and brushed my hair. Pulling the brush through my strait, honey brown hair, I heard someone fiddling with the doorknob.  
  
I didn't turn around, but watched in the mirror's reflection as the lock was struggled with for a few seconds, before the knob turned and the door opened.  
  
But there was no one there.  
  
I whipped around, finding myself staring at Drusilla.  
  
Looked back into the mirror, and saw nothing but the open door.  
  
Turned again to Drusilla, who was carefully pinning a hair clip into her smooth black curls.  
  
"Mirror won't show me myself," Dru said sadly. "Bad girls must be hidden, hidden far away where they can't be seen."  
  
Her eyes clouded over, and for a second I thought she was going to cry. Then, suddenly, she snapped out of it, a smile spreading across her face. "I'm having a tea party! You must come, for you've been invited, and we're ever so excited to have a new friend."  
  
She grabbed my hand and pulled me out into the hallway. She was wearing a white silk dress (she could have at least worn the dress she took from me, I thought somewhat bitterly) that clung to all the right places, accentuating her curves before falling to the floor and ending with a train that dragged elegantly across the floor. Her long black hair flowing down her back, Drusilla looked like the flawless model of a woman.  
  
But she acted nothing like it.  
  
"Sing a song of sixpence," She sang the rhyme I had heard countless times when I was younger. "A pocket full of rye, Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie, When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing, Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?"  
  
"The king was in his counting house, counting out his money." I replied, amazed that I still remembered the words.  
  
"The queen was in the parlor, eating bread and honey."  
  
"The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes."  
  
"Along came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!" Drusilla finished, clapping her hands together excitedly. "You'll make a good friend, for certain."  
  
She led me into another room, where an array of porcelain dolls had been set up around a table.  
  
"Be polite to Miss Edith." She instructed in a whisper, before turning to one of the dolls.  
  
I was introduced, and soon we were seated at the table as Drusilla poured a thick, red liquid from the china teapot into everyone's cups. I didn't drink any of my "tea," but merely listened to Drusilla chatter away.  
  
After she had been at it for some time, the door opened and Spike came in.  
  
"Hello there, princess." He greeted; at first I thought he was talking to me, but it was Drusilla who squealed and jumped into to his arms.  
  
"I see you're entertaining." He commented, and (much to my relief) drained my teacup. "Delicious." He complimented her. She kissed him, a kiss that (as I jealously watched on) lasted for a fair amount of time.  
  
"You taste good too." Drusilla informed him.  
  
He lifted her up so that her legs were hooked around his waste, and proceeded to kiss her yet again. She pulled away, placing a sharp, painted fingernail against his lips. "Not in front of everyone!"  
  
Spike growled, shoving Miss Edith under the table to spare her innocent dolly eyes, before turning to me. "You, out."  
  
I didn't move, partly because I didn't like seeing him and Drusilla like that, and partly because of the fact that he hadn't even bothered to mention my name.  
  
"OUT!" He growled, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and pushing me out, slamming the door on the sound of 'princess' giggling.  
  
I was so angry that I didn't keep sense of where my feet were taking me; I soon found myself lost in the massive house. Not that I cared, I figured I would simply throw open every door until I found myself in the one I wanted.  
  
Spike had seemed so sweet mere hours ago; and then he didn't even bother to glance my way . . . I was so caught up in my anger that I almost didn't notice the vampire who was leaning casually against the corridor wall, watching me approach.  
  
Almost didn't notice him, but simply seeing the large figure of Angelus blocking my way through the narrow corridor was enough to vaporize my anger.  
  
It may have been the fact that he looked quite capable of killing me without breaking a sweat, or the way his dark eyes watched every move I made, or maybe it was just the way he stood, in a constant, predatorial stance; something about Angelus sent shivers down my spine as the unwanted fear rose up and clung to every bit of me.  
  
"He hasn't killed you yet?" Angelus remarked dryly as if he was simply talking about the weather, striding towards me and looking me up and down.  
  
"Guess not." I said, forcing a bright smile on my face. "I should hate to bother you, I'll be going now." I said, hurriedly turning away.  
  
Now, if you wanted to get my attention, you would probably call out my name, grab my wrist, something like that. Angelus, however, shoved me against the wall.  
  
"William is a bit different than me." He said, pinning me against the wall in such a way that my back dug into it most painfully. "Now, I like to keep things for awhile, play with them a bit; see what they like, find what they hate." He ran a cold finger over my face. "But William, he has none of that subtlety, he likes to do things and get them over with. Which is why I'm curious as to why you're still here."  
  
"Guess I'm just lucky." I said with a nervous laugh, wishing he'd get his hands, which were now at my waist, off me.  
  
He laughed, and I wondered if maybe he'd decide that Spike kept me around only because I was so bloody hilarious. But alas, no such luck. "Not sure I'd call you lucky." Angelus replied, pulling me forcefully into the closest room.  
  
He could've at least chosen a bedroom, I thought as he threw me to the floor of what appeared to a dressing room: there was a row of closets along one wall, a vast mirror stretching from the floor to the ceiling on anther, with an elaborate make up table standing across the room from it.  
  
I pulled myself off the floor, stumbling as I backed away from him. The vampire looked nothing more than annoyed.  
  
"Get over here, you idiotic girl."  
  
"No! Don't even think of touching me."  
  
"Or you'll do what, scream?" He asked with a grin. "I would love it if you'd scream."  
  
I had backed into the makeup table; trying to find something I could hurt him with I grasped a tube of lipstick, and wishing it was anything else, threw it at him.  
  
He didn't even flinch when it hit him, bending down to pick up the tube of lipstick, he eyes never leaving me.  
  
I turned, just for a second, to see if there was anything on the table I could use as a weapon, but in that one second he grabbed me and threw me once again to the ground, this time straddling me before I could scramble away.  
  
Expertly pinning me to the ground with his legs, he uncapped the tube of lipstick. He held my head in place with one hand, and with the other he applied the red makeup to my lips.  
  
"Give me a kiss."  
  
I spit in his face.  
  
Not an intelligent move on my part, as within seconds his hands were around my throat, blocking the oxygen from getting to my lungs.  
  
"If you'd like to breathe again, lassie," He told me with a smirk. "You'd best give me a kiss."  
  
Already feeling a bit faint from the air loss, I pressed my lips against his until he released his grip on my throat and the sweet, cool air rushed into my lungs.  
  
As I caught my breath, he moved a hand up my leg.  
  
"Get . . . off . . . me." I said, struggling under his weight.  
  
He slapped me, hard; I'm certain my cheek must have been red for a record amount of time. "None of that." He told me harshly. "You're a whore, just do what you always do."  
  
"You haven't paid me." I glared at him as he pushed up my skirt. "And I have the right to refuse service to anyone."  
  
He leaned in close to me, his mouth against my ear. "Seeing as I can break your neck with one snap, I'd advise that you shut your mouth and do as your told."  
  
It was no idle threat, and so I turned my head away as he let himself into me, my eyes widening as I glanced at the mirror.  
  
I was there, lying on the floor with a rather red face, but I couldn't see Angelus. I could feel him (how couldn't I?) but there was no trace of him in the mirror. Feeling rather queasy, I turned my head to the other side and stared at the yellow floral decorations bordering the bottom of the wall until he was finished.  
  
He pulled himself out, wearing a grin I wanted to slap off his face, although I wasn't stupid enough to try to do so. "Not bad, not bad at all." He commented merrily. "Still, I doubt you'll last the night."  
  
And with that sweet farewell, he left.  
  
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	7. Tuesday

Disclaimer: Nothing Buffy related belongs to me!  
  
AN: Sorry for the long wait: it's finals week, so school's been hectic.  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Seven: Tuesday  
  
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After a bit of wandering, I found my way back to the room. About a half hour later, Spike came in, and although he must've been at it with Drusilla for at least an hour, he seemed ready for another go.  
  
"Hello, there." He said with a smile, pulling me into kiss him.  
  
I was still angry with him, as I figured it was all Spike's fault I'd run in with Angelus in the first place, so I pushed him off angrily.  
  
"C'mon, pet." He grinned, catching my wrist in his hand. "Don' get your—"  
  
He stopped, taking in my scent. "You reek of Angelus." He said with disgust, looking at me with pure hatred. "I get it; the moment I turn my back, you go off and have your fun with him." His voice was dangerously cold, and his grip on my wrist was starting to hurt.  
  
"Spike—"  
  
"I should've know; after all, you are a whore."  
  
"Spike! You—"  
  
"Quiet!" He pushed me roughly across the room, sending me crashing into the wall. "Did you think I wouldn't know? Do you think I'm stupid?"  
  
"You were practically on top of Drusilla, right in front of me!"  
  
"That doesn't have anything to do with it!" He grabbed a vase of wilting flowers and threw it against the wall, missing me by mere inches. "What is so great about him? What is it about Angelus that everyone adores? You were supposed to be mine!" He smashed his fist against the wall right above my head, making me flinch as bits of plaster fell onto me.  
  
"I didn't want him to do it! I wasn't bloody encouraging him!"  
  
"It's a little late to start tellin' me that, don' you think? I'm not an idiot! Tell you what, since you seem to like my soddin' grandsire so much, why don't I just hand you over to him and let the two of you have your fun." He grabbed my wrist again, and pulled me towards the door. "And I'm not goin' t' do a single thing when he makes you scream; but you girl, you're goin' to regret it."  
  
"Stop it!" I tried to free myself from his grasp, but he held tight. "Let go of me!" I kicked him in the shins, and he used his free hand to slap me across the face.  
  
"Shut up." He said coldly. I opened my mouth to respond, but Angelus' voice wandered into my head, telling me how surprising it was that I was still alive. And so I closed my mouth and let Spike lead me down the hallway.  
  
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Angelus was stretched across a couch, reminding me of a cat laying in the sun after a satisfying meal. "I see you noticed I sampled your toy." He said lazily as Spike entered with me in tow.  
  
"I bloody well did." Spike said, looking like he wanted to jump across the room and pull the older vampire's head off.  
  
Angelus laughed. "She'd a feisty lass, that one. She was throwin' make-up at me, yellin' and screamin', but I got 'er in the end." He grinned at me before turning back to Spike.  
  
"Somethin' you want, William?"  
  
Angelus didn't know it, but he'd just helped me out a great deal; at least now Spike knew that I wasn't trying to mess with Angelus behind his back.  
  
"Don' touch my things."  
  
"I already have." Angelus laughed as we left.  
  
I broke away from Spike's grasp as soon as we were in the hallway.  
  
"Aimee . . ."  
  
I ignored him and kept walking; I had no place to go but the room I'd been staying in for the past few days.  
  
"Aimee,"  
  
"Sod off!" I slammed the door behind me and imagined with satisfaction Spike blinking in surprise as he found himself staring at the heavy wooden door.  
  
"Open the door." He told me.  
  
"No." I leaned against it, hoping my weight would block him.  
  
"Aimee!"  
  
"I hate you!"  
  
"Open the door." His voice dropped dangerously, reminding me that he was a vampire. "I doubt you'll last the night." Angelus' words echoed through my head.  
  
I wanted to last the night. And the week, and the month, and the year. I stepped away from the door, fleeing to the couch on the other side of the room.  
  
He sat down next to me. "Look, Aimee . . ."  
  
I hugged my knees to my chest and counted the freckles on my fingers; one on my pinkie, none on my ring finger . . . it's strange on how few freckles you get on your fingers.  
  
"Are you even trying to listen to me?"  
  
"No." I informed him. "But I have three freckles on my middle finger."  
  
He grabbed my chin, turning my face up towards him and took a deep, un- needed breath. "I'm sorry I got so angry with you, alright? It wasn't your fault. It's just . . . everything I want, Angelus takes."  
  
"I'm very sorry for you."  
  
"I made a mistake, I'm sorry. No need to get all shirty."  
  
"I'm not shirty; and anyway, why do you care? I'm just dinner."  
  
"Maybe people taste better when they're in good moods." He said with a grin.  
  
"Stop it! I'm being serious." I pulled my brown hair to one side. "If you're going to kill me, just do it. I can't keep sitting around here waiting for you to attack me."  
  
He laughed. "I don't want to kill you."  
  
"But you will eventually. Just, get it over with, okay? For me?"  
  
He ran a finger down the vein in my neck. "How's this; I promise I'll only kill you on a Tuesday."  
  
How come he could always make me laugh? "Alright." I agreed, finding it strangely comforting to know which day of the week I'd die on. "What day's today?"  
  
"Tuesday."  
  
He lunged, knocking me off the couch and onto the floor. I screamed, but he smothered my yells with his hand, keeping me pinned as I struggled.  
  
He kissed my throat; ran his tongue over the same vein his fingers had been tracing earlier.  
  
He was shaking, and I realized that his eyes weren't gold, they were blue, and that he was laughing . . .  
  
"I can't believe you fell for that!" He exclaimed, as if he had played some fabulous prank.  
  
"I hate you." I told him, but there was no real force behind it.  
  
"You've got to admit, that was bloody hilarious."  
  
"It was not!"  
  
He stopped holding me to the ground but laid on top of me. "Spike! Get off, you're heavy!"  
  
"'Course I'm heavy," He said with a cocky grin. "I'm solid muscle."  
  
I laughed and pushed him off me, but Spike only pulled me on top of him. I snuggled against his chest as he purred contently and somehow, wrapped in the strong arms of a vampire, I felt perfectly safe.  
  
One Week Later   
  
I worked my hands down Spike's chest, knowing by now which places to touch. Touching, kneading, and rubbing I worked my way closer to the place that was screaming for attention. Closer and closer each time, but never all the way, not yet, not yet . . .  
  
"Aimee . . ." He groaned. I was only a hair's breath away . . . and I slid by hands back up his torso. He moaned again, stretched out on the bed, writhing in ecstasy. I laughed.  
  
"You are an evil, evil girl." He told me as he arched his back and I still managed to avoid the . . . area that needed attention.  
  
His head fell back against the bed, he shut his eyes, and I pulled myself over him, locking him inside me.  
  
"You are a goddess." He moaned, watching me with his blue eyes. "A goddess. I'm going to make you immortal, and you can be—" He was breathing just as hard as I was even though he didn't need to. "My goddess forever."  
  
"Forever and ever." I agreed, and then he came.  
  
= = =   
  
"What I said before, I mean it." He told me.  
  
"What did you say before?" I asked, resting my head comfortably on his chest.  
  
"About making you immortal."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"We don't stay anywhere to long, and we'll be leaving here soon. I'd have to leave you behind, because I can't take you with me, not if you're like this." He ran a hand through my hair. "I could turn you, make you a vampire like me."  
  
I sat up, no longer feeling quite so relaxed. "Make me into a vampire?"  
  
"I won't if you don't want me to, but just think about it for a second."  
  
I thought and was horrified. But then again . . . I hadn't been enjoying life until I met Spike, and he may have been evil, but humans could do some pretty rotten things too . . .  
  
"You'd be with me, forever?"  
  
"Forever."  
  
"And I'll be a vampire."  
  
"Part of the family." He said with a grin.  
  
I smiled back. "Why not? Being a human hasn't been that great, not for the past few years. Change me."  
  
"God I love you!" He yelled, knocking me over and covering my face with kisses. "You won't regret it. I promise."  
  
He took me, and that was the last time I ever had sex as a human, the best time too. Just as I was reaching my climax, just as I was overcome with exaltation, he bit me and it all increased ten fold.  
  
As he drew my blood, my life, out of me, everything got blurry, and then I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I could barely breath.  
  
The last thing that happened, I felt something pressed against my lips. Spike's blood flowed into my mouth. It was sweet. I swallowed.  
  
The world faded.  
  
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End Part One. 


	8. Awakening

Disclaimer: Neither BtVS of AtS belongs to be, and I'm (unfortunately) not making any money off this story. So please don't sue me.  
  
Rating: R  
  
AN: Sorry for the long delay—I've been on vacation, and although I didn't have a computer, I did finish writing this story; all I have to do now is type it up, so expect updates every few days from now on. Please, please review; any comments you have to make will be greatly appreciated!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Part Two: Un-life  
  
Chapter One: Awakening  
  
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What I noticed first were the smells; before my eyes opened; before my mind registered anything I heard, I was aware of the scent. It was almost to much to take in at first: the satin of the sheets and pillowcases, the bodies of the two vampires in the room with me, I was suddenly bombarded with scents of every kind, all so much stronger then anything I had ever smelt while I was human.  
  
"What were you thinking?" Angelus' deep voice demanded.  
  
"Something along the lines of: 'I want to turn her.'" Spike replied.  
  
My eyes opened slowly, leaving me feeling like I had just awoken from a long, deep, sleep. I looked about the familiar room dazedly, both Spike and Angelus too involved in their argument to notice me.  
  
"Then make her a fledgling!" Angelus yelled, exasperated. "Not a bloody childe!"  
  
"I don't want a fledgling!"  
  
I was in the same place I had died, sprawled across the large bed, although Spike had covered me in the bed's dark green comforter; I later learned just how lucky I was to have no family to bury me.  
  
"You can't just make a childe!"  
  
"Why not?!"  
  
"Because I said so! Because I'm your elder! Because you're supposed to ask me first!"  
  
"I—" Spike glanced towards me. "She's awake!"  
  
He turned to rush towards me, but the older vampire caught his arm.  
  
"Listen, William." Angelus said seriously. "She's your responsibility. You have to teach her. And if she messes anything up for us, I won't have any problem with killing her. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, peaches, I get it. Now leave!"  
  
Angelus growled in frustration but turned, slamming the door shut behind him as he left the room.  
  
Spike bounded across the room, jumping onto the bed next to me and welcoming me with a deep kiss.  
  
"How are you feeling, love?" He asked, pulling away with a grin.  
  
"A little out of sorts, but I'm alright."  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
My stomach answered for me, rumbling loudly.  
  
Spike laughed and offered me his arm.  
  
I stared at it blankly.  
  
He grabbed a small knife from the bedside table, making a shallow cut that ran up his arm.  
  
And I thought the smells before had been overpowering. Only a bit of his blood leaked out of the cut, but the smell was intoxicating. I couldn't think, I could hardly see, but I could smell the thick, red, liquid beckoning me, and I didn't hesitate to sink my teeth into his arm.  
  
The blood came rushing from his vein into my mouth, tasting sweeter than anything I had ever eaten before; no pastry, no steak, no five-course dinner will ever compare to the taste of warm, fresh blood. It's utterly delicious.  
  
When I had drunk more than my fill, I let go of Spike and fell back, exhausted, into the pillows.  
  
"You taste very, very good." I informed him languidly as my eyelids began to drop.  
  
"Glad to here it." He replied, placing a soft kiss on my lips as I drifted towards sleep.  
  
Coming back to life is very tiring.  
  
The sky was so dark it smothered the weak street lamps and swallowed the moon so that it was but a pearly sliver. Before, I would have been afraid of a night such as this one and rushed along the street clinging to the small circles of vision given by the street lamps.  
  
But not that night. I could see as clearly as though it were day and instead of fearing that the heavy blanket of the sky would push me down into the earth, I felt as though I could wrap the darkness around me and wear it as I pleased: this night was mine.  
  
I had woken a few hours ago, once again hungry, and Spike had agreed to take me hunting. We were in the nice part of town, but headed for a more populated area when I saw her.  
  
She was a young girl, probably only 17 or so, about my height and wearing the most exquisite gown I had ever seen. It was cut with a boat neck, exposing her shoulders and then clinging tightly to her upper body before billowing out to a full skirt at her hips, with a bit of a train following behind. The dress was green, with a gauzy layer of a much lighter, golden- green that shimmered softly, even with the lack of light.  
  
"Spike," I breathed, "Her dress is gorgeous."  
  
Her platinum-blonde hair was done up in a complicated twist, piled on the top of her head to display the matching green drop earrings she was wearing.  
  
"She looks about your size." He said eyeing her. "Would you like it?"  
  
The blonde woman rushed away from the house where she had presumably been at some sort of dinner party, wiping her teary eyes with a white-gloved hand, while Spike and I quickly came up with a plan.  
  
"My lady!" I cried, running towards her. "Oh, thank heavens you're here."  
  
She looked up, startled, blinking back tears.  
  
"It's my sister, she's twisted her ankle and she can't walk; my house is not far away, but I can't pick her up myself . . . Oh, my lady, you truly are a gift from God!"  
  
I grabbed her gloved hand and dragged her towards the alleyway. "I'm so glad you're here, I don't know what I would have done if I found you."  
  
"I'm, I'm always glad to be a help." She stammered, following me without protest.  
  
"You're a lifesaver." I had her now, deep in the shadows between the two tall buildings.  
  
"Where is you sister?"  
  
"Gone from this Earth; she died of the measles."  
  
"What?"  
  
Spike grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back with one hand, the other hand covering her mouth as she let out a scream.  
  
"Spike," I asked as a new aroma drifted towards me, one that smelled very, very good. "What's that smell?"  
  
"Fear."  
  
I smiled and felt my face shift. Before she could scream again, I sank my fangs into the girls' throat and drank. Her life rushed into me, filling me with a new energy as her blood pumped its way through my dead body. Spike leaned over, drinking from her other side.  
  
By the time we were finished, the girl had been limp for some time. Spike licked the blood off from around my mouth. "Want t' try on your new dress?"  
  
"You'll have to help me get this off first." I said, smiling at him innocently. "I don't know if I can undo the buttons by myself."  
  
He carefully unbuttoned my shirt, but as my body heat rose and his excitement soared, my skirt was torn to shreds.  
  
"You took our new girl hunting." Drusilla commented, admiring my new green dress.  
  
"She wasn't bad."  
  
"I got you a present Dru." I told her, acting on the spur of a moment.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow as I pulled the green drop earrings out of my ears and placed them in Drusilla's outstretched palm.  
  
"Oooh!" She squealed with delight. "They're every so pretty."  
  
"How do I look?" She asked, putting them in her own ears.  
  
"Stunning."  
  
As Spike watched with great interest, Drusilla pulled me closer, placing a soft kiss on my lips. In was a sweet, chaste kiss, but as she walked away with a coy smile on her face, I wanted nothing more to kiss her again.  
  
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	9. Lessons

Disclaimer: Same as always.  
  
AN: Please review!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Two: Lessons  
  
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"Being a vampire doesn't come naturally." Spike told me, and thus my lessons began.  
  
He taught me simple things at first: the most efficient way to snap a neck, how to walk quietly and move stealthily, how to use more than just my sight to catch my prey; sunlight burns, as do crosses and holy water.  
  
Yet my sire was not the only one who taught me things during those first few days.  
  
I was reading, curled up against Spike on the couch, when Darla and Drusilla entered, their arms entwined like two good friends.  
  
"We want to welcome our new sister." Darla said with a smile.  
  
"We're oh-so excited." Drusilla added, playing with Darla's blonde hair.  
  
Very unsure of what was happening, I got up off the couch and let the two of them lead me out of the room.  
  
Spike, who knew quite well what was happening, was eager to follow along.  
  
"Sorry, William." Drusilla said with a giggle. "No boys allowed."  
  
"Come on, Dru—" He started, but she shut the door before the rest could be heard.  
  
I didn't miss the boys. Darla and Dru did things to me I'd never imagined one female doing to another, showed me things about myself I never knew, and made me feel incredibly good.  
  
It was a very educational experience.  
  
Spike blocked my punch easily, and the kick that came after that. Did I mention the bloody showoff was blindfolded?  
  
"We'll probably be cuttin' out of 'ere soon." Spike told me.  
  
My lessons had continued and advanced; Spike had taught me kicks and punches, blocks and all sorts of small things that could turn the fight in your direction.  
  
"Anythin' you want to wrap up before we leave?"  
  
Spike was still much better then me, but he'd had years more practice. And I was getting better, I thought as I blocked Spike's punch and landed one of my own in his midsection.  
  
With a triumphant growl, I spun and kicked him in the side, causing the vampire to stumble backwards.  
  
Spike ducked the kick that followed and tackled me, pinning me to the floor as he tickled my sides.  
  
"Not fair!" I screamed/laughed. "You're cheating!"  
  
"Try and make me stop!" He grinned, pulling off his blindfold.  
  
As he moved one hand off me, I rolled, pushing Spike with me so that he was on his back and I was stretched across his stomach.  
  
I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and I at that moment I decided that the best thing about being dead was that you didn't have to breathe and you kiss and kiss for as long as you wanted.  
  
"Now that you mention it," I said, as we finally pulled apart. "There is something I'd like to do."  
  
I hadn't been here for years. I glanced behind me, but Spike and Angelus had hidden themselves well, and even with my vampire sight I couldn't see them.  
  
The sun had set only minutes earlier, but already the world had spiraled into darkness. I pressed my hand against the solid wood of the door. My house; or at least, what used to be my house. I shook myself, pulled my black cloak tighter around me, and knocked on the door.  
  
A butler answered promptly, raising and eye when he saw me. "How may I help you?"  
  
"I'm here to see Charles Able."  
  
"I don't believe you have an appointment."  
  
"I don't. Tell him that Aimee is here to speak with him."  
  
"Mr. Able does not like—"  
  
"You shall severely regret if you don't inform him."  
  
The butler hesitated for a moment. "Please wait here."  
  
He shut the door, leaving me standing outside fingering my cloak uneasily.  
  
When the door opened again a few minutes later, Charles Able was facing me, and the butler was absent.  
  
"Aimee." He said smoothly, stepping out side and closing the door firmly behind him. "So nice to see you again; how have you been these past years?"  
  
"I've managed, and yourself?"  
  
"I've been quite good." It took all of my control not to rip him to pieces right then and there. "Please, tell me what has caused such and unexpected visit." He said, leaning easily against the wall of my house.  
  
"A few years ago, you asked me to marry you."  
  
"Aimee, Aimee." He said, shaking his head. "I hope you don't think that proposal still stands? I don't have to guess at what you've been doing these past few years; as an esteemed member of society, it would be preposterous for me to wed you."  
  
"I would not ask that of you." I told him, moving closer. "Give me a job as a maid in your household. If I receive a good salary and nice quarters, I will attend to your other needs."  
  
"You're a much wiser girl then you used to be."  
  
"I know it. So we have an agreement?"  
  
"That we do."  
  
He leaned forward to kiss me, and I put my hand in his dark black hair, as if I was going to caress his face.  
  
I had let my nails grow long, and now I dug them into his skin and dragged my fingers down his face. He cried out, but my other hand was clamped over his mouth.  
  
I licked at the blood that was pouring down his face from the cut marks my nails had made. With the taste of blood my face shifted and my brown eyes turned gold, and I saw real fear in his eyes.  
  
Then I bit his neck, and his heart, beating a thousand times per minute, pumped his blood straight down my throat.  
  
His heart beat slowed and then stopped, and I let the limp body of Charles Abel fall to the floor.  
  
I was shaking angrily, tears about to spill out of my eyes. "S' all right, love." Spike comforted, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around me. "He's dead now."  
  
He licked the blood off my lips and kissed me.  
  
"Cheer up lassie." Angelus told me. "You killed the poncy boy. It's time to celebrate!" And then he kissed me too.  
  
The two of them held me between them and kissed me until I was happy again. Angelus might not have been my favorite vampire, and I doubted I was his, but he was family, and that was something. And he was a pretty decent kisser.  
  
The three of us celebrated for the rest of the night, terrorizing the city until morning drove us away. As the sun rose, we sprinted towards our current house, racing the burning sun along the cobblestone streets, and bursting into our house just as the sun broke across the horizon.  
  
Darla and Drusilla were waiting, and the three of us were promptly punished for staying out so late. I must say, it was certainly the best punishment I had ever received.  
  
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	10. Be a Vampire See the World

Disclaimer: Spike's not mine, but it's never to late for a belated birthday present . . .  
  
AN: I know this chapter's really short, but I'll try and have the next one up as soon as possible to make up for it. Please review!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Three: Be a Vampire, See the World  
  
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We left that house soon after; in fact, we left England completely. My vampire family and I traveled through France and Italy; we sailed from Sicily to Greece and Greece to Turkey.  
  
I got used to the fact that I wasn't the only woman for Spike, and there were more than Drusilla. In the vampire world, having a mate doesn't limit you from everyone else (although Spike and I weren't mates at the time).  
  
From Turkey we traveled to Iran, and then through Pakistan and into India. Eight years after I had been turned, we were in China, just in time for the Boxer rebellion.  
  
Spike killed his first slayer.  
  
Drusilla was the first to find him after that, and she was the one to really get a taste of our boy in all his glory. The rest of us celebrated by throwing monsters into the mix of chaos and mayhem that was the boxer rebellion.  
  
Not long after that, the master called to Darla, and she returned to her sire. The blonde vampire left, and our family began to fall apart.  
  
A few years later, Angelus and Drusilla went their own way, and set off for Romania; none of us, not even Dru, had any idea of what would happen to Angelus there. But that's another story.  
  
As much as I loved Dru, and I had grown very close insane, prophetic, innocent yet seducting, demonic child stuck in a woman's body, I was still very happy to have Spike to myself. My sire and I left China, traveling through Thailand and Indonesia and eventually making our way back to Europe.  
  
I can't possibly tell you everything that happened during that time: it would take pages and pages, and I would run out of ink long before I was done. I tell you this much: my sire became my mate, and I never once regretted being turned: when I died I learned what it is to live.  
  
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	11. Modern Conveniences

Disclaimer: Same as always.  
  
AN: This chapter is just me having a bit of fun, hope the rest of you enjoy it.  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Four: Modern Conveniences  
  
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The strangest thing about being a vampire is how much time changes, and you don't really notice until you look back on it. Cars are everywhere now, and I have a fake drivers license: but the first time I saw a car . . .  
  
Spike and I were walking down a narrow dirt road, hoping to reach the next town before daylight.  
  
Then came a strange, rattling, rumbling sound, and both of us turned to see to bright, blinding lights rapidly coming towards us.  
  
Pulling Spike with me, I stepped of the road to let the demon of metal and wheels pass us by.  
  
It didn't smell like a demon, that was what confused me. As a matter of fact, there was a bit of human smell lingering about it, but the rest of it smelled . . . non-living.  
  
Curiosity overriding any caution, we ran after the wheeled demon.  
  
I mentioned it was a dirt road? Well, the demon hit a pothole and veered off the road into the muddy grasses beside it. Then, surprising both Spike and I, a man stepped out, pulling goggles off his face and cursing angrily.  
  
"D' you think he's tamed a demon?" Spike asked me quietly.  
  
"He'd have to be pretty powerful." But I couldn't sense any power.  
  
"What is it then?" Spike asked, loud enough for the man to hear him. Startled, the man jumped.  
  
"Where did you two come from?" He asked, eyeing us nervously. Smart lad.  
  
"Down that a ways." Spike said, gesturing down the road. "What have we got here?"  
  
"It's a car." You could see the man was proud. "A model T ford."  
  
I'd never heard of a model T Ford before. "Is it dead?"  
  
"No, no it's not dead." He said with a laugh. "If you help we get it back on the road, I'll give you two a ride to the next town."  
  
I didn't like being laughed at, but that too was overridden by curiosity. Thanks to vampire strength, Spike and I had soon put the car back on the road.  
  
"Alright, get on in." The man said, opening the front door for us. "She can sit in the back." He said, but I was already happily perched on Spike's lap, so he just shrugged and started the car.  
  
It started with a great deal of rumbling and groaning, and then a jerk as it moved forward and we were pushed back against the seat.  
  
We flew along, faster and faster, over dips and hills, and I couldn't help screaming with delight.  
  
"This is bloody amazing!" Spike yelled as the world flew by us. "We need to get one of these!"  
  
The driver laughed again, clearly thinking we wouldn't be able to afford one.  
  
All to soon (and long before daylight) we reached the next town, and the driver let us out. Spike and I were so excited about this car; we didn't even kill the driver.  
  
The next man, however, wasn't so lucky, and that's how Spike and I got our first car.  
  
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	12. The Second Slayer

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Five: The Second Slayer  
  
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The usual hustle and bustle of a New York City subway station was missing, but then again, it was after one in the morning, so it wasn't really that unusual.  
  
I looked down the long, dark tunnel, hoping for any sign of the subway, while at the same time watching the men out of the corner of my eye.  
  
There were four of them, large men, the only other living things underground at this hour. They too were watching me, though none of them were trying to hide it.  
  
I knew what they were thinking: one girl, all alone in an otherwise empty subway station? I was asking for trouble.  
  
I don't have time for this! I thought angrily, my whole body wired with nerves.  
  
I lit another cigarette and leaned against the concrete wall, trying to look nonchalant. Even after years of practice, I was having trouble. I know, I know, Spike had already killed one slayer, no reason he couldn't off another. But still! You never really know with slayers; they're unpredictable, they're an actual threat, a challenge.  
  
Spike had seen the current slayer, Nikki, boarding an almost empty subway. Telling me to meet him at the last stop, he followed after her.  
  
All I had to do was wait.  
  
If only those men knew how much they didn't want to mess with me: being nervous made me irritable, and when I was irritable, necks tended to snap.  
  
Yet there they were, stupid humans, sizing me up.  
  
I was wearing heavy, black combat boots, which let me tell you, are the most comfortable things on earth, if you get the right kind. My legs were covered in fishnet stockings, most likely ripped because it's much harder to stay neat when you have to chase your food. The stockings disappeared under my pleated, green-plaid mini skirt, which was followed by what had started as a nice white T-shirt, and was now pretty much held together entirely by safety pins.  
  
Both Spike and I had gotten in to the whole seventies-punk look, although I had left my strait, brown hair alone while Spike had bleached his platinum blonde. Think Billy Idol look alike, although Billy Idol actually stole his look from Spike . . .  
  
I heard the sound of wheels on track, and all thoughts of the men who were still watching me vanished. Spike had to be on this train. If he wasn't . . . well, I wasn't going to think about that. He had to be on it.  
  
The doors slid open with a hiss, and there he was, a triumphant smirk stretched across his face.  
  
"Number Two?" I asked, putting out my cigarette against the brick wall.  
  
"Number Two." Spike confirmed, and then he was pushing me up against the wall and kissing me hard, and I was kissing him back, tasting the fight and the kill and everything else that was Spike. He had always been cocky, but the way he was holding me now, the way he was kissing me, he was so sure, so confident . . . I must say, I liked it very much. Very much indeed.  
  
"Like my new coat?" He asked when we finally pulled apart.  
  
I hadn't even noticed the long, black, leather duster he was now wearing. "A scar from the first and a coat from the second; things just keep getting better."  
  
He laughed, and was about to kiss me again when we both heard a noise from behind him.  
  
"You've missed you ride." I said sourly, noticing that, although the subway had left, the four men who had been waiting in the station with me were still there.  
  
"These boys been bothering you, luv?" Spike asked me with a glint in his eyes.  
  
"They keep looking at me like they want something." I said innocently.  
  
"Well, you're a pretty girl." He grabbed me roughly, pulling me in front of him and holding me close. "Tell you what, boys." Spike's hand slid (very noticeably) up my shirt. "If you can get her, she's yours."  
  
The men exchanged a glance. Spike looked menacing, but, although he'd kill me if he knew I said this, he's rather small. Each of the men was much bigger than him, and there was only one of him . . . and I was just a girl. Were they ever wrong.  
  
Of course, the horny bastards came right at us. Spike threw a punch at one of them, and I beat off another with a kick. Punch-kick-jump-kick-punch- grab-snap and all four of them were dead.  
  
Spike let out a scream of victory, and I ran towards him, hooking my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck and kissing him all over everywhere.  
  
He pulled back and spun me around, as my shrieks echoed in the empty station. "C'mon pet," he said, putting me back on the ground. "Let's go an' get something good to eat."  
  
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	13. Marcela

Disclaimer: Same as always.  
  
AN: Just the epilogue left after this . . . I hope you've liked the story! Please review!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Chapter Six: Marcela  
  
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Spike and I were in Spain, on the Costa del Sol; ironic, as we couldn't go out in the sun, but after the massive ball of fire disappeared each night, we swam in the cool waters of the Mediterranean. Few people think of this, but as vampires we don't need to breath, and therefore can stay under water as long as we want. This leads to all sorts of interesting activities . . .  
  
But that's off topic. Spike wanted to kill a third slayer, and that's why we were here. We'd been in Spain for a few weeks, and I had learned to flamenco dance while Spike learned all he could about this slayer. Her name was Marcela, and she was small, quick, and confident.  
  
Spike had finally drawn her out, and she faced him alone in the darkened, empty, city square. There were centers like this all throughout the city, many with fountains or statues adorning the middle. This one, however, was nothing but cobblestones stretching from one building to another, and down the narrow streets.  
  
I watched them, hidden in the shadows so as to not get in the way. This was Spike's fight, not mine: after all, he was the one obsessed with slayers.  
  
They fought for a long time. The occasional exchange of words, the frequent exchange of blows. Spike gained the upper hand for a while, and he almost killed her. Came so close, but she slipped away just in time.  
  
That brought a new energy out of Marcela, and she began to move faster and strike harder, and I began to really fear for my mate. But Spike matched her, he hit her more often, and I could smell the girl's fear. And then, out of nowhere, she staked him.  
  
Just like that.  
  
I had begun thinking Spike was going to win, and then he was dust.  
  
Just like that.  
  
Gone.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Dust.  
  
I screamed.  
  
I never knew I could scream like that, and I've never screamed that way again.  
  
My mate, my sire, the love of my life, the only one I never needed or wanted was gone, and I screamed loud and high and there were lights turning on in windows all around the square and Marcela, the one who was supposed to be the third slayer Spike killed and was instead the second person to kill him, dropped her stake.  
  
The slayer hadn't been expecting another vampire, and she was already exhausted from her fight with Spike while I was filled with a fury unlike anything I had ever felt before: it did not take me long to kill her.  
  
One of the townspeople, peering nervously out their windows, had called the police. The officers watched me warily but I ignored them, walking over to where Marcela's stake was lying on the cobblestones, surrounded by dust.  
  
I gathered up as much of it as I could and put it into my deep skirt pocket. All that was left of my Spike fit into my pocket. All willpower over anything left me, and I found myself on the ground, sobbing. The police officers acted quickly, taking hold of me and dragging me away. I couldn't find the strength to resist, and so I was locked up in a one- person cell in the local jail, to be dealt with later.  
  
"I'm ashamed of you, pet." Drawled a very familiar voice. "Stuck in a human jail? I'm gone less than ten minutes and you get yourself locked up."  
  
"Spike?" I asked, incredulous. He was outside my cell, leaning casually against the bars. "But you're dead."  
  
"So are you."  
  
I couldn't help but smile. "But the slayer . . ."  
  
"Alright, so I've been reduced to a pile of dust. That's no reason for you t' let the humans get the better of you." He said with a grin. "You can do better than this; I expect you out tonight."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Love?"  
  
I kissed him. One last time, savoring everything that made him Spike.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Love you too."  
  
I woke up, still sitting on the cot that was the only piece of furniture in the cell.  
  
A dream.  
  
A good one though, and even dream-Spike was right: there was no point in me sitting around here. Once the sun sets, I resolved, I'm out.  
  
The guard was hours late with dinner, but as the human in the cell next to me said, this was normal. By the time he finally arrived with 'dinner' the sun had set and I was starving, though not for the food the guard was handing out.  
  
I fixed my hair quickly, putting on my best 'pretty girl' look. "Oh, thank you sir!" I said as he pushed my tray through the slot and placed it on the floor. "I'm just so hungry!"  
  
I reached for it eagerly, bending over just enough to give the guard a glimpse down my shirt. The bowl slipped out of my grasp and the porridge/rice mush that was supposed to be dinner went flying across the floor.  
  
"Oh no!" I cried, and let the tears fall down my cheeks. "I'm such an idiot."  
  
"Don't worry about it." The guard told me kindly. Guess who's really the idiot here?  
  
He pulled a bowl off someone else's tray and carefully placed it through the bars.  
  
As you know, vampires have lightning-quick reflexes; I had hold of him before he knew what was happening.  
  
I pulled his arm through the food-slot until I could reach through the bars and grab his throat, cutting off his air supply.  
  
"Give me your keys." I ordered him, the innocent girl act gone.  
  
He struggled and I tightened my around his throat. "Give me your keys!" I growled. The room was silent as the rest of the prisoners watched me in mute fascination.  
  
The guard ripped the keys off his belt and threw them onto the floor of my cell. Quickly and efficiently, just as Spike had taught me, I snapped his neck.  
  
He fell to the ground with a dull thud as I picked the keys up off the floor and let myself out. I sank my teeth into the guard's neck. He was not someone I would have chosen to eat; in fact, he tasted rather bitter. But I was starving, and wasn't going to wait any longer.  
  
If Spike had been there, we would have let the prisoners out one by one and watch them try to escape before we killed them. It would have been a good bit of fun, but I wasn't in the mood for games tonight, so I idly dropped the keys to the cells behind me, not caring weather or not the rest of them got out.  
  
I made my way towards the beach; the last place Spike and I had been before his fight with the slayer.  
  
That's where I am now, pulling Spike's dust out of my pocket. My sire now fits in the palm of my hand. I don't believe all that shit about vampires going to hell. Sure, I've killed humans, but humans kill bears who kill fish that kill other fish that kill reeds: in the end, were just part of one big food chain.  
  
I bring the dust close to my face; strangely enough, it smells like Spike. An onslaught of memories hits me, when I first met him, when I was turned, and all the years we had together rush by me until I'm back on the beach and a breeze lifts the dust of my hands and spills Spike into the Mediterranean Sea.  
  
For the first time in a century, I'm alone.  
  
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	14. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.  
  
AN: This is the last chapter! I hope you guys had as much fun reading it as I did writing. Please, please, please review; it makes me a very happy person! If you liked this story, go check out some of my other stories, either at or at my site: Enjoy!  
  
Memories from Dust  
  
Epilogue  
  
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Five years later, Aimee drove past a sign merrily welcoming her to the town of Sunnydale. She wasn't particularly hungry, but decided to stop and stretch her legs a bit.  
  
She was on her way to Los Angeles, but couldn't resist stopping in the Hellmouth; after all, it's the prime tourist stop for demons.  
  
She made her way to the town's only club, The Bronze, wondering if she should kill a few extra humans to put them out of their misery: she'd been here under an hour and was already bored with the place.  
  
She found a seat where she could see the whole club and pick the meal for tonight. Maybe she'd even turn one of them; the vampire had been feeling rather lonely lately.  
  
Suddenly, she sat up in her chair, alert. She smelled something familiar, incredibly familiar, but she couldn't quite say what it was . . .  
  
She followed the scent across the club and standing in a darkened corner she saw him: Angelus.  
  
It had been so long since she'd seen her family. "Angelus!" She cried, enveloping him in a big hug.  
  
"Aimee?" Angel said, incredulous, when he had finally pried the girl off him. "I haven't seen you for ages!"  
  
He looked her up and down. He'd forgotten how pretty she was—gorgeous, really. Her hair was a light, honey-colored brown that framed her face the way the dark liner framed her brown eyes. The hips that curved up to her slender waist . . . if he was still Angelus, he would have had her right then, weather or not they were in the middle of a club.  
  
But he was Angel; he had a soul and he had Buffy.  
  
There was something different about him, Aimee decided, though she couldn't quite pin in down. She let it slide, seeing as she hadn't seen him for years and so he probably had changed.  
  
"Don't tell me you brought Spike along with you."  
  
Aimee shook her head. "Dust."  
  
"Finally got annoyed with him."  
  
"No!" She hit him playfully, and then became somber. "It was a slayer."  
  
"He always was a bit obsessed."  
  
"What about Drusilla?" Aimee asked. "You guys still together?"  
  
"No. Things . . . happened." Angel answered vaguely. He didn't want to tell her he had a soul. She'd figure it out anyway, soon enough.  
  
"Angel?" A chirpy voice called out behind them, followed by a muttered "Why does he always have to hang out in the darkest, furthest corners?"  
  
One whiff of her scent and Aimee knew. "Slayer." She growled, running her tongue across the teeth that would turn to fangs.  
  
Angel shoved her against the wall. "Don't touch her."  
  
Aimee smiled slightly, this was the Angelus she remembered.  
  
"I'm serious." He gave her that look, the 'you better do what I'll say or I'll run you over with a carriage and six horses' (which he actually did do once, Aimee recalled, wondering why she had been so glad to see him) look. "Not a single hair on her head, understood?"  
  
"Yes, Angel." She smirked as he released his grip on her.  
  
The slayer's arms encircled Angel from behind and, surprising Aimee to no end, the blonde slayer leaned over and gave Angel a kiss on the cheek. "Whatcha do—"  
  
"Who's she?" The slayer asked, the relaxed attitude gone as she stepped away from Angel and reached for her stake.  
  
"This is Aimee." He said quickly, "And she is just about to leave."  
  
"But I didn't catch your name." Aimee said with a smile, staying rooted in her spot.  
  
"I'm Buffy." The blonde returned the smile. "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So prepare to get slayed, vampire."  
  
"I'm—"  
  
"Just about to leave." Angel cut her off. If she killed any humans here in Sunnydale, he would stake her himself. However, she was still family, in the twisted vampire way, and he'd rather she left Sunnydale, keeping herself and the rest of the human population alive.  
  
"I just got here!" Aimee protested.  
  
"She's a vampire, Angel." Buffy sighed. "Just move over and let me stake her."  
  
"Aimee's going to leave, and she's not going to hurt anyone." Angel stated, giving Aimee that look again.  
  
"And why is she going to listen to you?" Buffy asked, pointy wooden stake ready.  
  
"She's my childe's childe's childe."  
  
Buffy looked rather lost.  
  
"Angelus is my great grandsire."  
  
"It's a family hierarchy thing." Angel supplied.  
  
"And a small bit about a carriage and six horses."  
  
"I'd thought you'd forgotten."  
  
"You and your stupid vampire family." Buffy rolled her eyes. "Giles told me that the other one's been spotted here, Drossy or whatever her name is. You know, the nutcase."  
  
"Drusilla." Both vampires responded.  
  
"Yeah, whatever."  
  
"She's here in Sunnydale?" Aimee asked, perking up a bit.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Right then, I'm off." She gave Angel a peck on the cheek. "Nice seeing you again, Angelus. Good luck with your slayer."  
  
She left the club, Buffy's "I'm serious Angel, I don't care if she's part of your family; if she's kills anyone, she's dust" drowned out by the nighttime quiet.  
  
Aimee didn't know what to think of Angelus, or Angel as he was now called; he'd changed quite a lot. He was with the slayer, but he wasn't going to kill her . . . she shook it off, opening her nose, ears, and eyes towards finding Drusilla.  
  
She found her, the dark haired vampire, sitting in the graveyard in a formal white gown and weaving flowers into her hair. Drusilla never changed.  
  
"We drank the tea without you." Drusilla informed her. "You were late and it was getting cold."  
  
"I missed you too." Aimee sat down beside her.  
  
"All my boys are gone." Drusilla said sadly, and Aimee wanted nothing more than to make turn her lips into a smile.  
  
"You still have Angelus."  
  
"No, no, no." Her sharp nails tore at the yellow flower. "My daddy's gone from me now, he's locked up by that wicked, wicked Angel creature."  
  
"What are you talking about?" She sometimes wished Dru would be more straightforward.  
  
"Soul." Drusilla said, uttering the word like a curse. "My Angelus got himself a soul, and he won't hurt me anymore."  
  
Aimee sat in a shocked silence, suddenly understanding.  
  
"And my sweet William's gone forever, turned to dust upon the sea." With sudden rage, Drusilla slapped the younger vampire across the face. "You should have taken better care of him!"  
  
"I know." The tears spilled out of Aimee's brown eyes, falling down her cheeks unchecked. "I want him back, Dru! I want my Spike to come back."  
  
Drusilla was soft again, taking Aimee into her arms. "Shhhhh. You can't have Christmas every day. Don't worry, Mummy's here for you. Always here for you."  
  
As Aimee's tears dried up they sat in silence, the comfortable silence off two people used to each other's company.  
  
"Dru," Aimee said excitedly, grabbing the older vampire's hand. "Let's start our family again. Let's turn childer: only the good ones of course."  
  
"Yes." Drusilla said, a smile making her face radiant. "Let's make new boys."  
  
"We'll have a family again." She'd still miss Spike, Aimee knew, but she wasn't alone anymore.  
  
Brown hair, brown eyes, about the same height: the two vampires looked like sisters.  
  
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The End 


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